The Best Form of Flattery
by inukagome15
Summary: They say imitation's the best form of flattery. Steve would disagree, but then it's his fault for trying out Tony Stark's signature goatee style in the first place.
1. Chapter 1

**This was a tumblr prompt by _bootycap _that caught my fancy. Because I could so see it happening. And just for kicks, set in the same universe as The Silent War, so that microwave is actually Pitch, and Bruce really doesn't want Tony giving them all a talk as to how to get along with AIs.**

**The Best Form of Flattery: **They say imitation's the best form of flattery. Steve would disagree, but then it's his fault for trying out Tony Stark's signature goatee style in the first place.

* * *

**The Best Form of Flattery**

* * *

The mission had been a long one. Steve hadn't had access to anything resembling a razor in weeks, and he hadn't tried shaving with a knife after he almost stabbed himself in the throat when Natasha startled him. She'd given him a look and informed him in a very bland voice that it would do him good to grow some hair.

Steve hadn't been sure whether to be insulted or flattered, so had just let the topic drop and abandoned his shaving routine for the next several weeks.

By the time he was back home – home being Stark Tower – he had a lovely beard going on. Natasha had been rather fascinated by the fact that his facial hair was darker than the hair on top of his head, and Steve was rather eager to get rid of it and take a hot shower. He didn't like reaching up to touch his face and encountering what felt like a hedge; he was also tired of smelling like he'd taken a bath in mud.

So the first thing he did was head straight to his bathroom. Thankfully it was early morning and there was no one around to see the state of his facial hair. He could hear voices from the kitchen, but no one seemed to be up to anything worrisome. He did hear Clint threatening the microwave with a fork if she didn't stop clanking threateningly, but it seemed that Bruce had the problem handled.

Once inside the bathroom, he set his shield down by the door with a relieved sigh, slowly beginning the process of unpeeling his skin-tight uniform. It was different from the one that Coulson had a hand in designing, but Tony hadn't done much beyond make it out of some kind of miraculous material that was simultaneously bulletproof, fireproof, impervious to cold and heat, and stretched. He'd seemed insulted at Steve's request that he make the uniform a little less form-fitting, and Steve knew he hadn't imagined the way his eyes lingered on Steve's behind.

Shaking the thought off, Steve pulled the uniform down to his waist and stepped up to the basin, gathering his shaving supplies.

It wasn't until he'd slathered his face with shaving cream and was about to start shaving it off that an odd thought struck him. Tony had always gone on about how much work keeping up his goatee was and that no one ever seemed to appreciate the art behind it. Steve had never bothered to pay any attention to the rants beyond a mild wish to feel whether the hair was really as soft as it looked, but now that he actually had the facial hair to spare…

Brow furrowed in concentration, Steve carefully began to shave. It couldn't be as difficult as Tony insisted it was, could it?

Twenty minutes later, Steve ruefully admitted that there was indeed a certain flair to shaping facial hair so meticulously. He'd managed to shave off his hair to a rough approximation of what Tony's goatee looked like, and now he was considering trimming the rest just to go all out before he shaved everything off.

After a few more seconds of thought, Steve decided to just go for it and grabbed the scissors.

Trimming didn't take nearly as long as the actual shaping did, so Steve found himself staring at a very good imitation of Tony Stark's signature goatee on his own face. It looked strange.

Steve wondered if he should take a picture for posterity's sake, even going so far as to ask JARVIS his opinion.

"Already done, Captain," JARVIS responded.

That left Steve wondering if JARVIS – and by extension Tony – had ever done anything else like this before if they had cameras _in the bathrooms_.

Filing that thought away to bring up at a later point – or never, really, because Steve _really_ didn't want to know – Steve reached for the shaving gel to shave the rest of the hair off.

That was, of course, when the alarm to assemble blared.

Steve froze for all of a second before whirling into motion, pulling his uniform back on and grabbing his shield. He pulled his cowl down, turning the mike on to hear the chatter of the rest of the team as they headed out.

Natasha said something in Russian that sounded like it might've been a curse. Then: "_I was looking forward to a bed._"

"You and me both," Steve said.

Tony's voice sounded surprised. "_Back already?_"

"Came in this morning," Steve responded. "What's the situation?"

"_Vampire ponies!_" Clint shouted gleefully.

"_Please tell me you're pulling my leg,_" Natasha groaned.

"_These equines do not sparkle, but they bear sharp teeth,_" Thor said.

"_And breathe fire,_" Tony noted, the familiar whine of a repulsor blast accompanying his words.

"Christ, okay." Steve ran through several possible battle plans and then scrapped them all when a purple unicorn with extra sharp teeth went right for him.

The vampire ponies-slash-unicorns actually weren't all that difficult to take care of once one got the hang of staying clear of their fangs and the range of their fire attacks. But it wasn't until Thor got hold of the machine responsible for ripping a hole in time and space and smashed it that they stopped attacking the city.

Then, tired and desperately wanting that shower he had never gotten round to taking, Steve convened with the rest of the team in the middle of Times Square, which had been hastily cleared out due to the attacking vampire ponies/unicorns.

He didn't notice anything wrong until realizing that the entire team had fallen silent, staring at him.

Tony lifted his faceplate, lips twitching. "_Please_ tell me it's my birthday." He sounded absolutely delighted.

"Because your idea of a present involves vampire ponies?" Steve asked.

"Screw the ponies. I'm really digging the new look you've got going there." Tony's lips spread into a grin.

"I didn't know _you_ could grow hair there," Clint said, sounding desperately like he was trying not to laugh.

"He's a red-blooded human male," Bruce pointed out, pulling close the robe Thor had thoughtfully given him. "Of course he grows hair there."

It took Steve a slow and horrifying second to remember that he hadn't managed to shave off the rest of his beard. Which was now a goatee. Shaped exactly like Tony's.

Oh _crap_.

Slowly lifting a hand to double check that yes, he _hadn't_ shaved it off, Steve narrowed in on Tony and gave him a warning look, daring him to say anything about it.

"Well," Clint said slowly, shooting Tony a sidelong look, "they_ do_ say imitation's the best form of flattery."

Tony's grin was threatening to break his face. "I want pictures."

"No," Steve blurted, remembering with a vague sense of horror that JARVIS already had some and all Tony would need to do was _ask_ and then Steve would be thoroughly screwed.

"Goatees don't suit you," Natasha informed Steve.

That was when Tony lost it, breaking down into howling laughter.

Burning with embarrassment, Steve shifted uncomfortably.

This was the last time he would ever grow facial hair. Next time he went on a mission, he was bringing shaving supplies.

* * *

**Thoughts? The prompt (or post, really) was**: steve going on a long term mission without access to a razor but when he gets back he finally shaves but as he's doing it, he shapes his beard like tony's just to see what it looks like but then the alarm goes off and he has to suit up before he can shave it all off and when tony see hims he laughs his ass off


	2. Chapter 2

**This is a rather overdue prompt fill for _brandnewfashion_, the exact specifications of which can be found at this site: **inukagome15 dot tumblr dot com slash post/79420099413/brandnewfashion-inukagome15

**Due to the content of this chapter, the rating has been bumped up to an M. And perhaps obviously, it's set in the same universe as The Silent War. Much thanks to _kurowrites_ for the quick beta!**

**Now please enjoy and let me know what you thought. :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.**

* * *

At the standard debriefing after the attack of the vampire/ponies, Fury took one look at Steve's face and heaved a sigh that said he was deeply disappointed in Steve's life choices and that there had better be a good explanation for this.

"I didn't have enough time," Steve said, looking at a point on the wall above Fury's shoulder.

Tony leaned over, getting a whiff of what smelled like really ripe mud. "You take a mud bath or something?"

"He slipped," Natasha said blandly, earning a betrayed look from Steve.

"Can we get started?" Steve asked desperately.

Fury gave Tony a pointed look and then glanced down at the mission report someone at S.H.I.E.L.D. had handed him. "Ponies?"

"With fangs," Clint clarified, polishing his bow (sadly not an euphemism).

"They had the breath of fire," Thor added helpfully.

"Did they sparkle?" Fury asked long-sufferingly.

"No," Steve answered, sounding relieved about this.

"Oh, thank God," Fury muttered.

Tony didn't say anything to this beyond flashing Steve a broad grin that had the other blushing and looking away. Tony had no qualms in staring shamelessly at Steve and his beautiful goatee. It made him want to run his hands over Steve's face and see just how soft the other's facial hair was. And just how was it a darker color than the rest of his hair?

Luckily for Tony, Fury didn't have any questions to ask him. He was giving the briefing the minimal amount of attention required and could've parroted back what was being said word for word if necessary, but if asked a question his own response would've been completely nonsensical and dealing with the state of Steve's facial hair rather than the battle.

Fury would not have been amused.

After the briefing was over, Tony rushed up to Steve on the Helicarrier's deck, stopping him with a gauntleted hand on his arm. "Need a ride back?"

Steve eyed him suspiciously. "No funny jokes?"

Tony gave him the Boy Scout salute.

Steve looked at his hand strangely. "Were you ever a Boy Scout?"

"Eh." Tony shrugged. "About a week, 'til they kicked me out for exploding a cabin."

Steve's eyes widened at that, and Tony flashed him a bright grin before closing the faceplate and wrapping an arm around Steve, taking off with him.

Steve's startled yelp was particularly satisfying.

* * *

Steve stared in dismay and barely concealed horror at his bathroom sink. The razor and shaving gel he'd laid out before the call to assemble had sounded were gone. Not only that, but every other article that was even remotely related to shaving was gone.

Steve covered his face with a hand, flinched when he encountered unfamiliar hair, and then began to rub his forehead.

He wouldn't put it past Tony to filch his shaving supplies, but the man was doubtlessly mooning over the photo JARVIS had taken. And he'd arrived at the same time as Steve. But Natasha and Clint had come home faster because they hadn't taken a pit stop to get donuts.

And Natasha…

Steve heaved a sigh, looked mournfully at his shower, and then opened the bathroom door, only to be brought up short at the sight of Natasha sitting on his bed.

"Natasha." His voice was pained.

"Steve." The word was calm. She raised an eyebrow.

"Where's my razor?" He would take a straight blade at this point.

"I took it," Natasha admitted blandly.

"I expected a bit more subterfuge."

Natasha waved a dismissive hand. "You'd already figured out it was me."

"_Why_?"

Natasha stared at Steve for a moment, eyes scanning his figure. "Shower, Steve. Then we'll talk. You reek."

Steve gave her a long look, heaved another sigh when she just looked back, and retreated into his bathroom, locking his door even though Natasha could pick it in five seconds flat.

He took a long shower just to spite her, enjoying the warm water and the soap. When he was done, he stared petulantly at his reflection for a minute before slapping on some moisturizer and making sure his towel was wrapped tightly around his waist. He hadn't brought any clothes.

Natasha didn't seem at all perturbed to see him half-naked. They'd spent enough time together over the last few weeks for all notions of modesty to fly out the window, but Steve was still aggrieved by the way she'd made herself at home on his bed, even flicking through a magazine that he didn't recognize.

After he was appropriately attired, Steve stretched out next to Natasha, giving her a pointed look.

To her credit, she put the magazine away and fixed him with sharp eyes. "So." Her voice was brisk. "You and Tony."

Steve frowned slightly. "What?"

"We're done, Steve," Natasha said. "I've had it with your mooning over the last couple weeks—"

"I don't _moon_!"

"—and so has everyone else with the UST. Did you see the eyes Tony was giving you today?"

Steve paused, rewinding the last few hours. Maybe there'd been a bit more flirting… "No?" He quickly amended that to a "Yes" with the look Natasha shot him.

"That beard turns him on." Natasha patted his face, ignoring the face Steve made. "So keep it."

"I don't _like_ it." Steve was aware he sounded like a petulant child, but he didn't care.

"It's not forever. Just until you bag him."

Steve groaned, burying his face in a pillow.

Natasha pried it off. "You've wanted him for months."

"It's not just _want_." Steve pulled the pillow back, hugging it tight to his chest.

"No one ever said dating had to come first."

"What if I like to date?"

"You don't like sex?"

Steve flushed. "I didn't say that."

Natasha patted his head consolingly, stroking his hair several times. "It'll be easy, Steve."

"You said the goatee doesn't suit me," Steve tried.

"It doesn't. But Tony has enough of an ego that he'll think it does." Natasha stroked a finger down Steve's cheek. "Though you'll probably want to wait a few days for the stubble to grow in."

"I want to shave," Steve grumbled.

"The quicker you get Tony to jump your bones, the quicker I return your razor and its accompaniments."

Steve chewed the inside of his mouth. "It has to be Tony?"

"I have a bet on it," Natasha said shamelessly.

Steve squinted at her. "Isn't this cheating?"

Natasha gave him another pat on the head. "All's fair in love and war."

* * *

Tony was indeed checking out the picture JARVIS had taken in the bathroom upon Steve's request. But only after first checking that there was nothing else indecent in it, because there were lines even he wouldn't cross, and that would be one of them.

The picture was a good one, and Tony had it saved to his server when he was done admiring it. For his first try, Steve hadn't done a bad job at all. It must be his artistic talent.

Grinning as he remembered seeing Steve with a goatee right after the fight, Tony entered the kitchen, giving Beans a flick of the fingers that had the coffee machine turning on with an acknowledging chirp.

He checked on Toasty, made sure Thor hadn't tried to goad him into toasting more Pop-Tarts than he could handle, and then checked Pitch's circuitry, having heard Clint threaten her with a fork.

It was in this state that Steve and Natasha found him. Tony glanced over, only to come up short when he saw that Steve was still sporting that goatee.

Natasha shot Steve a look and then reached over to snag the coffee Beans had poured for Tony, ignoring the indignant beep he gave.

"Mine," Tony said, dragging his eyes off Steve to glare at her.

Natasha peered down at the mug – _Tony's_ mug – in consideration for a few seconds before slowly putting it down and getting another mug.

Beans beeped warningly at her before letting her take the coffee pot.

"Fancy an omelet?" Steve asked Tony, getting his attention. The man was clutching a carton of eggs and cheese.

It took Tony a moment to drag his brain off the beard and to the question. "Whatever you're having," he managed.

Steve just smiled charmingly at him, gently pushing him aside to get at Fireball and turn the gas on. He scratched absentmindedly at the beard, and Tony's brain went blank.

It took a loud slurping noise from Natasha to jolt him back to awareness, and Tony made a grab for his coffee, downing it eagerly.

"Where're the others?" he asked once he came up for air. Beans refilled his mug.

"Agent Barton and Mr. Odinson are amusing themselves with the footage of today's battle," JARVIS said. "Dr. Banner is attending to a time sensitive experiment and has asked not to be disturbed."

"Lucky that didn't go off during the fight," Tony said. "We didn't really need Hulk for that."

"He said 'smash pretty pony' a lot," Natasha said.

"Point," Tony conceded, sitting down at the table. He nursed the warm mug between his hands.

"I'd like to know whose idea it was to make _vampire ponies_," Steve said, the pan sizzling on Fireball. "Where does that remotely seem like a good idea to you?"

They hadn't caught the maker of those fine ponies, but Tony had his money on Doom. "Maybe they like _My Little Pony_."

"And now the question is why a villain would watch that show," Steve said, throwing in some onions and mushrooms. Tony hadn't even seen him open the fridge.

"I could see Doom doing it," Tony said. "Who knows what lies under that mask of his."

"The face of a Brony?" Natasha asked wryly. She stared down Beans a moment later when he tried to push her coffee mug off the counter.

"It would explain why he hates Richards so much. That's a man who has the capabilities of finding a _My Little Pony_ universe and isn't doing it. Maybe this was his way of asking Richards to do so."

"We've already said that Doom's attacks on New York City are an immature teenager's way of getting his crush's attention," Natasha pointed out.

"Not that he's going to get anywhere," Steve said, "considering Reed's married."

"Some wedding," Tony said, getting up to distract Beans from Natasha's mug before he could do something he would later regret. "Someday I'm going to show them what a wedding's really supposed to be like."

Toasty made an inquiring ding in response to that.

"You all are invited," Tony told him. He tapped Beans on the glass. "Play nice with the scary spy lady, Beans."

"This scary spy lady would like some coffee," Natasha said, slowly pushing her mug over to Beans.

"This guy over here is wondering if Tony is still interested in his omelet," Steve said, holding a plate with a steaming omelet on it.

"Tony most definitely is," Tony said, moving the few feet it was necessary to grab the plate and then leaning back against the counter, opening a drawer to grab the fork so he could start eating it.

"JARVIS would like to know if everyone will continue using the third-person to refer to each other as Agent Barton would like to know who put glitter in his shampoo," JARVIS said.

Tony looked indignant as Steve eyed him suspiciously. "It wasn't me!"

Natasha sipped her coffee innocently, arching a delicate eyebrow when the two men turned their gazes on her.

Fireball gave a hiccupping cough, reminding Steve that the pan sizzling with oil was still on her.

Steve jerked to attention, checking the oil with a spatula before emptying the bowl of stirred egg into the pan. "If this ends up in another prank war like the one last month, I'm not coming out of my bedroom for the foreseeable future."

"But, Steve," Natasha said sweetly, sliding over to Steve and stroking his face with a finger, "what gives you the impression that your bedroom will be safe?"

Steve gave Natasha a strange look, not that Tony really noticed. He was too busy staring in envy at Natasha's finger, which was running through those dark hairs on Steve's face.

"I _know_ my bedroom isn't safe," Steve said slowly, mouth twitching slightly as Natasha brushed the corner of it. "Can you please?"

"I've had beard burn before," Natasha said in a thoughtful tone, head tilted as she looked up at Steve. Her hand dropped from Steve's face. "I wonder if it still feels the same."

Steve's lips twitched slightly, and his eyes darted to Tony quickly. "You could try it out," he said very seriously.

Tony bit down on his tongue in an effort to not protest. He had no business in dictating who Steve got to kiss. It wasn't like they were _together_ (much to his distress).

So it was to Tony's displeasure that Natasha actually pulled Steve down to her face. But instead of planting a kiss on his lips, she rubbed her face against Steve's. It seemed to take an effort of will on Steve's part, but he didn't pull away.

That was when Fireball gave an indignant screech and Pitch popped open the door threateningly, almost clocking Steve in the head when he jerked upright in shock.

And Tony noticed that his forkful of omelet was dangling in midair over his plate and he hastily shoved it into his mouth to make it seem like he hadn't just been ogling two of his teammates. He maturely ignored Natasha's knowing smirk.

"Would you like an omelet?" Steve asked Natasha, his tone carefully blank.

"No thanks," Natasha said, patting him on the cheek once before rubbing her thumb over Steve's lip. "I know you're hungry." She sauntered out of the kitchen before Steve could respond, snagging Tony's coffee much to Beans' indignation.

Tony could've protested, but he was too busy trying not to sprout an extremely unfortunate erection in his pants.

Steve was looking at him in concern. "Tony?"

And that was all she wrote. Keeping his omelet close, Tony blurted out a quick "Project liable to explode" and bolted.

Another minute and he would've jumped Steve. He was having trouble remembering just why he'd been against it from the start.

Oh right. It was because Steve would turn him down.

* * *

After what had happened in the kitchen, Steve wasn't too sure if he wanted to continue doing this. It had been hard enough stifling his kneejerk reactions in response to Natasha petting his face that he didn't want to know what would happen if it continued.

Although he had to admit it was totally worth it seeing Tony speechless. It was even worth Fireball living up to her name and swallowing the pan with fire just as he took the omelet off. He supposed it was a good thing that she'd let him finish cooking it. Pitch was beeping too ominously for him to try and microwave a meal.

About two hours later he was stretched out on the couch in the living room with a sketchpad, very determinedly sketching the TV that Tony insisted he hadn't put an AI in, but it was too insistent on airing kids' cartoons to be anything but sentient. He was only sketching the TV because his usual sketching lair was out since he was sure Tony didn't want to see him at the moment.

That was until Tony wandered into the living room, tank top greasy with motor oil and hair sticking up in a way that suggested he'd been running his hands through it. He flopped down in an armchair, blinking blearily at the TV that was right now airing an episode of _Adventure Time_.

Natasha walked in two minutes later, sitting down next to Steve.

"Nice goatee," she said seemingly randomly.

It took Steve only a second to rally and say very calmly, "Thanks."

"It take you long to grow?" Natasha actually sounded curious.

Steve gave Natasha a slightly incredulous look. "A couple weeks," he replied, keeping his voice even.

He heard Tony give a small strangled groan and glanced over in concern to see the other man hide his face in his hands.

"Do you like it?" Natasha asked, head tilted in a way that suggested she knew exactly what was going through Steve's mind.

Steve unconsciously reached up and rubbed it, ignoring the groan from Tony's direction. "It's great," he lied.

"I love a man with a beard," Natasha said casually. "There's nothing like beard burn to finish off a great round of sex and making out. Unfortunately, most of my targets tend to be the clean shaven sort."

Steve fought to keep a straight face. "Is that so."

"Oh yes," Natasha said. "Most rich people tend to avoid the beards. They think it makes them look too sleazy."

Steve very determinedly did not look in Tony's direction. "I thought that was just mustaches."

"The stereotypical mustache villain will unfortunately never disappear," Natasha said.

Unable to help it, Steve rubbed a thumb over his lip, slightly distracted by the way the bristles felt under his finger. "So I shouldn't grow a mustache and announce my plans for world domination."

"Fury would lament your lack of originality and sic us on you," Natasha agreed.

"We can't have that," Steve said.

"Be a little more original." Natasha shot Tony an amused look; the other man didn't even notice.

"How about I shave it all off and then do it."

This time the strangled groan from Tony was a lot louder. Steve barely caught the grin flashing across Natasha's face before it smoothed out.

"Then no one would take you seriously," Natasha assured him. "Your face is too lovable."

Steve frowned. "Thanks?"

Natasha's eyes darted over to Tony before she leaned forward and traced over Steve's new goatee with her fingers. He stiffened uncomfortably, not used to such familiarity from someone he viewed as a very good friend.

"Are you blond everywhere?" Natasha asked. "Or is your hair down there darker?"

Steve barely restrained his kneejerk response, which was to yelp loudly and pull back. He instead forced a charming if nervous smile and said, "Want to see?"

That was the point at which Steve heard Tony approach the couch. He tilted his head to the side to look up, seeing Tony stand there with an intense look in his dark eyes.

Natasha slowly retracted her hands from Steve's face. "I'm going to see if Clint's washed out that glitter yet."

She swung herself over the back of the couch in a way only she could before slipping out of the room.

Steve found himself unable to speak with Tony's eyes pinning him to the couch. He swallowed thickly, reaching up to self-consciously rub at his goatee.

That was apparently the last straw, as Tony jumped on him, mouth practically crashing into his. Steve winced as their teeth clacked together painfully, but then Tony grabbed his head, adjusting the angle and slipping him tongue, and it was all soft warmth and wetness and Steve moaned into it before he could stop himself.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing here," Tony whispered into his mouth, nipping at his lower lip.

"What," Steve gasped, head falling back helplessly as Tony worked under his jaw.

"Making me absolutely _crazy_." Tony's mouth returned to Steve's, kissing him so deeply that Steve wasn't quite sure how to breathe. He took in a deep gasp a moment later when Tony broke off to rub his nose down Steve's. "Beard burn is something else," he mumbled, planting an open-mouthed kiss at the corner of Steve's mouth.

"You would know," Steve managed before Tony captured his mouth again and his hands slipped under Steve's shirt, stroking over his abs. He pulled away, trying, "Is this—" Tony distracted him by biting at the underside of his jaw. "Is this—" he tried again, only to groan helplessly as Tony ground down against him. He bucked up helplessly, hands coming to a rest at Tony's hips. "Tony, Tony, wait—"

Luckily Tony did, but he continued to nose at Steve's hairline. "Yes?" Thankfully he sounded just as breathless as Steve.

"Are we—" Steve heaved in a breath, trying desperately to calm his heart. "Are we doing this?"

"You'll have to clarify, Steve." Tony's fingers rubbed small circles into the skin on Steve's back. "Doing what?"

"I'm not in it just for the sex," Steve said, looking up at Tony.

"Sex is a bonus," Tony said. "I mean, you're ridiculously hot, Steve, and I'd want to jump your bones regardless, but I've held off for a reason."

"Because I lacked facial hair?"

"Because I like being friends. The facial hair is a bonus." One of his hands reached up to rub a thumb through said facial hair. "And I didn't want to ruin it." This was said quietly.

"Not ruining it," Steve promised, tightening his grip on Tony's hips. "I just…I want…" His breath hitched as Tony dipped down to nose along Steve's jaw.

"Yes?" Tony murmured, lips feather light against Steve's skin.

"I want a date," Steve managed.

"We can do that," Tony promised, drawing Steve into a soft kiss. "We can have lots of dates. Do you want one first before we do this? Or is sex first okay?" His tone clearly suggested which one he would prefer to have first.

"It's the facial hair, isn't it," Steve said, grinning helplessly as happiness blossomed in his chest.

"Well," Tony said slowly, head tilting to the side as a slow grin pulled at his lips, "they say imitation's the best form of flattery. And you're usually so clean-shaven," he added, hands coming up to frame Steve's face and curl in his hair, "that it's impossible to resist mussing you up right now."

"Okay," Steve breathed out, closing his eyes as Tony's breath fanned out over his lips.

"Okay?" Tony murmured.

In lieu of an answer, Steve closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. He slowly deepened it, enjoying the warmth and closeness. He shivered lightly as Tony's hands traced down his back and slid under his shirt again, fingers digging into his back. He tightened his grip on Tony's hips, thumbs slipping under Tony's tank top and sliding over his hipbones.

And suddenly Steve needed to see Tony naked, needed to see him stretched out over his blankets and illuminated by the blue glow of his arc reactor. He needed to see how Tony looked when he was completely and utterly wrecked, when he didn't know anything but Steve's touch and the heat of their bodies.

But the bedroom was too far away, and Steve was too riled up to do much more than follow Tony's lead as he took control of the kiss and ground his hips down against Steve's. Next time they'd do this properly, Steve promised himself.

Tony's hand coming down to press up against Steve's very hard erection had Steve gasping in surprise into Tony's mouth. He whimpered as Tony rubbed up once, twice, and then he was coming in his pants, his head sliding down to Tony's shoulder as he bit back a noise that would've announced to everybody exactly what was going on.

When he came back to himself an undetermined amount of time later, Steve watched dazedly as Tony jerked himself to a finish, his hand shoved down inside his sweatpants.

Next time they were definitely doing this naked. And on a bed.

Tony's breath left him in a whoosh as he slumped forward against Steve, body shivering in pleasure as he came down from his orgasm. He turned his face into Steve's neck, planting a sloppy kiss against it.

"Good?" he asked indistinctly.

Steve couldn't help a short breathless laugh. "Good," he agreed. His hand came up to rub at his face, remembering what Natasha had said about returning his shaving supplies once he and Tony got together. "Maybe now I can shave," he said.

Tony made a disgruntled sound into Steve's neck. "Can it wait?"

"For what?"

"Well…" Tony gave him a filthy grin. "I was thinking we could get to a bedroom…"

It took all of a second for Steve to pick Tony up, hands under Tony's thighs, and carry them both to the nearest bedroom, which was not coincidentally Tony's.

They didn't come out until the next morning, and by that time Steve was clean-shaven thanks to Tony's shaving kit, and JARVIS wasn't speaking to them because they had traumatized the TV in the living room despite Tony's prior assurances that there hadn't been an AI in it.

It didn't seem to comfort the TV, and Clint was rather resentful of the fact that they couldn't watch anything because the TV refused to turn on.

Steve would probably have been concerned, but Tony was too busy grinning at him and pulling him in by the belt loops of his jeans for a deep kiss, his beard scratching wonderfully against Steve's newly sensitive skin.

A beard was wonderful and all, but Steve thought he much rather preferred to be on the receiving end of any beard burns.

* * *

**What did you think? Natasha was so much fun to write, as were Tony's reactions to Steve having that goatee.**


End file.
